


Down

by cytheriafalas



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytheriafalas/pseuds/cytheriafalas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam never sleeps well when they send runners out on overnight missions, but it's worse when Runner Five goes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down

He had a hard time sleeping when Runner Five was out overnight. He hated the overnights. It didn't help that Jack or Eugene or Janine were always assigned the night portions.  _"You need to be fully alert for the return, Mr. Yao. Please get some sleep. They will do a perfectly fine job protecting the runners. Yes, Mr. Yao, if we need you, we'll call."_  She had to do her part, take her turn, just like all the runners. Even if Five wouldn't have laughed until she pulled something if Sam had said anything, the Major was insistent.  _"Sam, you and Alice were close, but this--this is highly unusual. You know I can't begrudge you, or anyone, happiness where it can be found, but... She will get no special treatment from me, Janine, Runner Seven, or you. I will have to find her another operator if it becomes an issue. You are our best. I would hate to do anything to disrupt that."_  Or, in normal-people speak: "I don't care what you do in bed, but when she's out there, she's just another runner."  
  
So he did his best. She did better. Runners always seemed to be that way. He had to watch them die, carry that guilt for the rest of his life. They just had to do it. Tough sons of bitches, not that he'd actually say those words to any of them. They'd either laugh or kick his ass. She would do both.  
  
Today would be okay. She'd reported in an all-clear just before going out of comms range. She could still hear them, so if a zomb pinged on the scanners, they could tell her to pack it up and get out, but it was silent on their end. The bed was too big, that was all. The too-small-for-two bed was really just a too-big-for-one bed.  
  
He tossed and turned for hours, drifting in and out of sleep, imagining he heard noises that weren't there. Klaxons or gunfire that faded as soon as he stirred, groaning of zombs just outside his door that were really outside the gates, moaning in frustration (he assumed) at the food they couldn't reach. Finally he was woken by a hand on his stomach and a woman's voice whispering his name. "Sam. Sam, wake up."  
  
Sam jolted awake, reaching for the hand on his stomach and finding only his own skin. She'd backed away, but Runner Five was standing there, still dressed for her run, a fond smile on her face, long hair glimmering in the moonlight. He kept telling her to cut it, that she'd get it caught in something. She laughed whenever he said it.  
  
"You're back early."  
  
"Did you get any sleep tonight?" she asked.  
  
"Some. Come to bed. I'll sleep then."  
  
"I can't," she said, shaking her head. "I have to see the good ol' doc first. I just wanted to see how you were. I know you don't sleep well when we're gone. And to say I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Sam yawned. Now, knowing she was home safe, the disjointed sleep of the hours before began catching up with him, eyes closing. "I'll be here when you get back,okay?"  
  
He never got an answer. The sound of klaxons sent him flying from his bed, digging for a shirt he kept on top of the dresser. It was folded nicely, something he definitely didn't remember doing. Runner Five must have done it before she left for the doctor's. Someone was always hurrying somewhere in Abel, but the pounding footsteps down the hallway were enough to distract him. Runner Seven was there, throwing the meager fabric that served as a doorway aside. Sam couldn't see him well, but he looked half-frantic.  
  
"Thank god you're up. Come with me."  
  
Sam struggled into his shirt, following Evan blindly through the quad and up to the walls, joining the masses of people already there. They parted for him, a sea of people falling silent at his arrival. Maxine guided him to the front. Everyone gave him a wide berth. They crowded in behind Evan and Maxine, but not around him.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sam."  
  
That didn't make sense. "What for? What's going on?"  
  
Runner 7 pointed, his hand shaking only a little. There, among the last of the zombs straggling away with the morning's light, he saw what Evan was pointing at.  
  
"No," Sam said, looking to Maxine for confirmation. She had tears in her eyes, but she was watching him warily, like he was about to throw himself off the edge or something. "I just saw her! She was just in our room... She told me she was going to see you." He plucked at his shirt as though that would prove it.  
  
"Sam, we've not opened the gates since she went out. You would have heard it."  
  
"I  _saw_  her," Sam insisted. He wanted to stomp his foot like a child, as though that would prove his point.  
  
"You must have been dreaming, Sam. That's her. She's gone grey."  
  
Gone grey. Such a stupid euphemism. At least Janine would have said she was dead. Which she wasn't. Because he'd just seen her. Runners had a really bad sense of humor sometimes. This was one of their jokes.  
  
To the side, he saw Evan accepting a rifle from someone. Sam grabbed his arm to stop him, fingers digging in hard enough to brise. "She's not dead! I just..."  
  
But no doctor would let a runner in without a full checkup first. It was protocol. Straight to the hospital. Even Runner Five wouldn't have disobeyed that, not just to see how Sam was sleeping.  
  
"I just saw her," Sam whispered.  
  
She was getting closer, stumbling among the zombies without even drawing their attention, and Sam recognized the clothes. He'd been there when she'd put them on, getting inn her way, telling her he preferred her not to wear them, that she looked better with nothing on. She'd swatted him away and kissed him on the cheek. But there, on her left calf, half of the pant leg and most of her calf were gone. He'd seen those injuries before. A crawler.  
  
Hands took his shoulders, pulling him gently back. Sam couldn't resist. "Go ahead, Evan."  
  
"Jack--"  
  
"I know, Sam," Jack said. His grip was tight. "Let him make the shot. Let him end it clean."  
  
Evan sighted, nice and easy, like it was nothing. Forty yards. To him it probably was nothing. A single shot and she crumpled. Sam went down with her, a graceless heap on the cold wood of the tower.  
  
"Got her."  
  
"Another Five down," Maxine murmured, one hand resting gently on Sam's head.  
  
"We're retiring the number," Evan said, voice clipped, handing the rifle off. "I can't lose another Five. Jack, get Sam inside."


End file.
